


I Think You'll Find My Resume Impressive

by LogicalParafox



Series: Watts' Defection [1]
Category: RWBY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicalParafox/pseuds/LogicalParafox
Summary: A ruthless doctor decides to be acquired by Salem.
Series: Watts' Defection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016158
Kudos: 3





	I Think You'll Find My Resume Impressive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnyxMidnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxMidnight/gifts).



> A mirror work to 'An Audition of Sorts,' flipping the prompt around.

Monstrous? Preposterous.

Watts paced his lab, head spinning with the injustice of it all.

Ironwood had asked for defenses and troop equipment that would far outclass even the strongest Grimm, then balked when Watts unveiled his masterpiece. As if the cyborg had any right to judge extreme technological enhancements of weak human and Faunus forms. Ironwood snarled that there would be a full review soon of all of Watts’ experiments to see ‘what else was violating all known ethical standards.’ The fool. The coward.

A true shame to lose his future breakthroughs that were not yet ready to survive outside of their tanks. Ironwood’s cowardice would sentence them to an early demise, but Watts would take no responsibility for that. Given his choices, he would remain and continue his life’s work.

Well this after all was the eventuality he had been preparing for. The lab surveillance had recorded nothing beyond the mildest of his ventures. More fool they to trust the monitoring systems he designed as a tool against him, yet another sign that Ironwood was unfit for the role in which he found himself. He was far too short-sighted and myopic to really see the larger picture. Watts had done his best, but it was time to move on. Some people could not be saved.

* * *

Thus far his contingency systems were going smoothly. He had always kept his research and other databases backed up on servers outside of Mantle’s reach, of course. Having built their systems he was very aware of the many shortcomings a truly ambitious opponent could exploit. Some were traps, of course, but any who wanted to go up against Watts had their work cut out for them and frankly deserved what they got.

It pained him to shut down support systems for some of his more promising experiments. He could rebuild, later. The most valuable parts were all his genius, after all, but the biological progress could not be hurried and he was losing months if not years of work here. Damn Ironwood.

Watts typed in the sequence of clearing keys to begin the purge, wiping out all traces of his creations and innovations. He didn’t bother to watch. Sentimentality was a poison stronger than anything he knew how to manufacture or isolate.

He did allow himself a sigh of regret when the systems told him that the elimination of his experiments had reached a point that, in an emergency, he could begin the pyroclastic process now to wipe out any lingering traces with high confidence that nothing would be salvageable.

Watts wheeled out the body double he had constructed, dressed in garments identical to those he always wore in lab. He placed a bottle of strong liquor close at hand and double checked that the blank double was at the appropriate temperature.

He did a last check of what had been his lap, insuring that all physical experiments were beyond recognition and the mechanical and digital ones were erased, with the careful devices placed to blow them apart and hide the fact that they had been blank even before the apparent accident.

Watts had always been a careful man and he had planned this escape route even as he built these systems in the first place. A genius of his caliber, after all, had to be aware that the bureaucrats of the world would always prefer to keep true innovation on a tight leash and he had never been one for… restrictions.

Watts looked around one last time, then keyed in the self-destruct code. He left via an unknown wall exit that sealed itself without a trace and put him out in an unmonitored series of ducts. An inelegant leg of his escape to be sure, but such was the price of otherwise perfection.

The only lingering question was which place would prove the most fertile for him to plant the seeds of his research and once more turn to his true passions.

* * *

Watts had a dislike of air travel. Well, of travel in general. Having to steer such vehicles in particular earned his ire. Such a waste of time. Nearly as bad as the body’s need to sleep. So inefficient. He would find a solution one of these days and finally have the time he deserved.

The small stolen airship flew low over the Grimm-plagued lands, searching for a structure he had found hinted at in Ironwood’s personal notes, Evernight Castle, home base of the erased-from-history mistress of the Grimm, her grace, Salem.

Watts had been shocked when he first learned of her existence from Ironwood’s notes on the maidens and Relics. It had taken Watts fully days to truly process that immortality existed and it lay, for now, in the hands of one who used it to inflict humanity with tremendous inconvenience but not much planning.

Salem, he thought, could offer him a better use of his skills and might be just the person to appreciate what he could do. After all, anyone who created Grimm surely could appreciate how far he had gone to understand the mortal form.

If nothing else, the key to and weaknesses of Mantle’s security systems and the communication systems of the kingdoms should be prize enough for one whose aims seemed to hold humanity in contempt. If nothing else he could buy himself space and time and funding to continue his life’s work.

There were so many factors outside of his control at this juncture that Watts felt uneasy. He hated not being in control and to have to take the thoughts and feelings of others into account.

* * *

“Explain to me why I shouldn’t have you killed,” Salem said coldly, watching some flickering broadcast in the head of a floating Seer. From his position at the foot of her dais, Watts caught no more than brief flickers of color. Salem hadn’t even bothered to look at him.

Flanked by the floating Seers, Watts straightened his coat, brushing imaginary specks of dust from his sleeves. “Your grace, I have delved further into the nature of humanity than-”

“I have no interest in humanity.”

Watts froze as the Seers drifted closer, tendrils beginning to life, the light catching on the razor-sharp tips. “And yet you throw your Grimm against them. You hunt the relics, no?”

Salem looked up for the first time, narrowing her uncanny eyes at him. “And what do you know of the Relics, human.”

“Arthur Watts, at your service, your grace,” he said with a low bow. “Sometime researcher under Ironwood.” He watched her lip curl with derision and hurried on. “And designer and architect of many of the security systems the kingdom of Mantle employs to harm and frustrate your creations.”

Salem leaned back in her throne, tapping one long pale finger against the arm of it. “And why are you here beyond a desire to feed my creations?”

“I find myself at… an impasse, your grace, and in need of… patronage.”

“I can be very patronizing,” Salem said, smiling.

Watts smiled back, feeling sweat gathering at his temples, one of the Grimm’s tendrils wrapping around his wrist with cold insistence. “I hope to offer you my services in exchange for you providing me the resources to continue my research unhindered.”

“I have no need of anything you can provide.” She gestured idly and further tendrils began to wrap around him.

Watts fought to remain still. “Surely the shields around Mangle irritate you!”

Salem narrowed her eyes. “An irritation. Mild and annoying and easily…. crushed.”

“How much simpler though with me in your service, your grace, able to deactivate them with the push of a button.” Watts loathed that his voice had a slight tremble as the Grimm closed in. He knew the risks, his body simply refused to see the logic in not responding to stimuli.

“Mmm,” Salem said boredly, though her Seers loosened their grip on him and drifted away. “Very well, give your presentation and I will decide after if I will keep you.”

“Thank you, your grace,” Watts said, eyes gleaming as he squared his shoulders. “I think you’ll find I can be a useful man indeed.”


End file.
